A Broken Promise
by i-embrace-OCD
Summary: Oneshot. He could care less about his own safety if it wasn't for her. Before they head into battle, Sokka makes a promise. Then he breaks it. Tokka, of course. T for character death and a little harmless violence.


**Author's Note:** I heard the song _Unknown Soldier _by Breaking Benjamin, and I just had to write this. I love the song, and this oneshot is largely based on it. You don't have to listen to the song to understand the oneshot, but I suggest it anyway because it's such a good song.

I'm free to interpret the song as Tokka as I please.

-Rated T for character death and some harmless violence. Merry Christmas everyone! (Okay, maybe those two statements don't exactly go together…)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Avatar, but if I did, this still wouldn't happen. I also don't own the song this is based on – because I couldn't make anything that awesome.

_A Broken Promise_

_-Oneshot-_

The wind howled with what sounded like the pain of a thousand men, men who had suffered on that same battlefield long before. The moon was high in the sky, full, giving the waterbender the strength she needed to complete the tasks that lay ahead of her.

The firebender had already left to find his sister. The Avatar, too, would be leaving in mere moments to search for the Fire Lord – he and the waterbender had yet to say their good-byes, however, and he would not leave until he had said everything he wanted to tell her.

The warrior stared at the moon, believing that it would give him strength, too, even if he wasn't a waterbender. He remembered the princess, the power she had displayed when she sacrificed herself for the moon; he remembered that warrior, how she had been so strong, so smart. He had no idea were she was, did not know what kind of pain had been unleashed upon her; his insides flamed when he rethought this fact, and he felt more powerful – a result of anger, hurt, despair.

He did not find himself worrying about the Avatar, or the firebender (certainly not him!), or even his baby sister (he'd always think of her this way, no matter how old they got or how her skills improved and despite the short one-year difference in their ages). His thoughts had somehow drifted to the small figure of a person at his side – why he should concern himself with her, he didn't know. She was the toughest of them all, could take care of herself better, and was more capable than any of them.

Why, then, was he so worried about _her_?

Perhaps it was how the moonlight made her look so pale, so fragile. Maybe it was the way that for the first time since he had known her, she seemed _tiny. _It could have been a natural feeling – everyone felt concerned for the blind, right? Especially small, frail-looking blind girls. Sure. What he felt was a reflex – or, at the most, a friendly worry for a fellow comrade.

Somehow he knew that none of these things was the reason, though. The imminence of battle had, by one way or another, given way to the realization that maybe… but no. _No, _he thought, _it's not like that. I… don't think of her that way._

Yet he could just help the urge to hold her in his arms (oh, how light she would be!), could hardly resist the temptation of taking her hand in his (how could she be so _small?). _He wanted to hold her up, wanted to stare into her pale green eyes (such a lovely color, such a _delicate _shade), wanted her to have feelings for him, too.

All the time he told himself that he was ridiculous. It was a pre-battle high he was suffering from – he couldn't possibly feel that way about Toph. Not _Toph. _Not that earthbender who would have gladly ground him into the earth for voicing his newfound desires, not that girl who looked so much like a porcelain doll that he was afraid reaching out and touching her cheek would reward him with a cold, hard surface instead of warm, soft skin.

In a moment of impulse, he reached for her hand; when his hand touched hers, she recoiled, obviously startled.

_What is he doing? _Her cheeks flamed, and she was glad of the starless evening – perhaps it would shield her discomfited expression. What in the name of Avatar Roku could he be thinking? Grabbing her hand like that – toying with her emotions – right before the last stand. How could he do something like that? Why?

"Toph." His voice was soft, low. Gentle. "Toph, I… want you to take care of yourself."

Toph frowned. "Of course I'll take care of myself. I'd be more worried about _your_self, if I were you." She seemed to take offense to the implications of his words. How could he even think that she wouldn't care for herself? Did he think she was weak?

"I know – I mean, I know you can take care of yourself. You're the most capable person I know. I just… don't want anything to happen to you, okay?"

Toph intentionally directed her face to the moon, the ground, the air bison. Anywhere but _him. _What could she say to that? A simple _okay _didn't seem sufficient enough. _Take care of yourself, too _wasn't good, either.

Toph's voice was soft now, too. "I'll be fine, Sokka. I can promise you that." She didn't _know _that, but if it was enough for her, shouldn't it have been enough for him? "I don't know what's going to happen, but I do know that whatever does, I'll look out for myself. You do the same."

"I will," Sokka told her.

"Promise?" This time it was _she_ who was worried about _him_. He found yearning in her voice, found need, reliance. He had to be okay. _For her._

He took her hand and this time she didn't pull away. "I promise."

lllllllll

"FIRE!"

Sokka, Toph and their modest group of allies they had assembled between other friends between the Northern Water Tribe and the Earth Kingdom found themselves pitted against a group of firebenders. The attack was unexpected, but they had made an attempt at being prepared for such circumstances.

The absence of the sun and steady ascent of the moon gave the waterbenders an edge, and the earthbenders fought steadily, too. Sokka occasionally thought that perhaps he should have gone with Katara – she was supposed to have met up with Iroh and Zuko a short while ago (Zuko had judged that vanquishing his sister wouldn't take quite so long as it might have so long ago; he attributed this to the fact that his skills had improved enormously since their last encounter), but if something had gone wrong, she would be releasing the prisoners alone and probably against more guards than she could handle.

Then he assured himself that he didn't give his sister nearly as much credit as she and her skills deserved, and he continued fighting full-force.

Toph found it hard to concentrate. How could she, when she was constantly bothered by the little voice in the back of her mind that said, _I'll be fine, Sokka. _It echoed. She had told him – she had assured him – that she would be okay. This time she wasn't just being strong for herself – she was being strong for him, too. She felt like she was fighting for him. They needed each other to survive.

But… but what if one of them didn't? Could she really live like that? Could _he, _if something happened to her?

_He promised me, _she thought. _That's all that matters. He promised._

lllllllllll

Everything happened so fast.

Toph had been fighting four different Fire Nation soldiers – one in front, two on her left, and another on her right. Her back had been to the open field behind her – she had been about to toss a flurry of earthen daggers at the attackers on her left and front while crushing the final one on her right with a boulder.

She had been too preoccupied to notice when a fifth man jumped behind her. She was vulnerable, was left completely wide open for attack as she focused her energy on hitting the other targets. The fireball being conjured up by the man at her back would sure be too low to duck. She would have to suffer the hit.

At least, that was what she thought at the time; however, as she braced for impact, she realized that her supposed assailant was on the ground, holding a throbbing, bleeding hand to his abdomen. Sokka had thrown his boomerang at the threat, saving her.

Unfortunately, he had also distracted himself from the swordfight he'd just been engaging in.

He lifted his hand to receive the returning weapon; as he made the motion, his adversary (a nonbending soldier, so appropriate for Sokka) slashed the Water Tribe warrior across his abdomen.

It didn't feel as bad as it was. Sokka's armor had been penetrated – the hit had been hard, swift, and accurate – and he could feel that he had been cut, but it didn't seem that bad. He missed his boomerang (it flew over his head as he bent to clutch the wound for a brief moment, in both surprise and pain, though the hurt wasn't as much as he expected).

Sokka clutched the hilt of his sword and continued to battle the man who had slashed him. Toph was all right now – safe, unharmed. He didn't mind that _he _had been hurt, and really, it didn't feel that bad. He was losing blood – but it didn't feel like much. He could still fight. He still had to work harder at his own safety – but that was for _her_. He could care less about his own safety if it wasn't for her.

She could feel his steps faltering. She didn't know why – _What's wrong? What happened to him? – _but she was worried. He was okay – he _had _to be. Just… what could be causing his reaction time to slow? What could be causing his steps to weaken, his stance to be so unsteady?

She focused less on the two idiots she was fighting and zoned in to where he was. She could see his outline as vibrations coursed down his body, through the earth, and to her; she focused on the earth around him – and saw something she never would have wanted to see.

He was _bleeding. _

She could see the tiny vibrations of thick liquid drops hitting the ground. They were crystal clear, and she wondered that he was losing too much blood – she could feel him fighting with vigor, but his energy was draining. He was losing _too much_. He was in danger.

He could barely feel the cut now – just a vague ache in the general area of the wound. When he glanced down for a brief moment, he could hardly believe how much red he saw. Surely some of it had come from his opponent – but he hadn't been too hard on the man. He was mostly trying to knock him out, not cause too serious of damage. He didn't want to kill anybody – the man had done nothing to him, had not offended him personally. Sure, he was Fire Nation and probably deserved to die, but Sokka felt that he was losing conviction. He didn't know why – it just seemed to be slipping from him.

He consciously felt that he was weakening now. With a final wave of his sword, he knocked his opponent's weapon from the man's grip; the strength of the move had surprised him, overwhelmed him. He fell back, falling to the ground with a soft thud.

Toph felt him fall before the movement even occurred. She _knew_ it would happen. She fissured the ground and two men fell into the fracture; the ground closed under the guidance of her iron will, and she hurled a boulder at two other men. A pillar shot out of the ground and blast a soldier some twenty feet away; for a hurried finale, she crushed a few more men between two earthen walls. Not all of them had been attacking her, but she didn't want to have to worry about them.

She concluded all of her motions in a flash and was at Sokka's side. The man who had been attacking him had been swept up in one of her moves, and she no longer worried about him. She did not build a rock wall around them; the fire (Spirits, it was everywhere) probably shielded them from view. She didn't know, nor did she care.

His breathing was shallow. His eyes were open, slow-moving; he tried to sit up, but Toph pushed him back down. "Sokka, what are you thinking?"

"I'm fine, Toph," he said. Even as the words left his mouth, he knew they were false. He just needed them to be _true_. He couldn't break a promise – he couldn't leave her like Yue and Suki had left him. He didn't want Toph to go through that – but if she cared for him like he had cared for Yue and Suki, he wasn't sure if he could help it.

"You're not fine, Sokka…" Toph bit her lip, fighting tears. _How could he do this to me? _"Just… just stay here. Don't move, and – and hang on, because Katara will heal you. She _will." _

Sokka was frowning. He didn't cry (he wouldn't show her weakness, would be steady for her as long as life allowed him to); he didn't tell her that Katara wouldn't make it, because she already knew.

Toph took him in her arms, hugged him to her. "Don't die, Snoozles. You clueless idiot – don't. You promised." She allowed one tear to spiral down her cheek. He wanted to wipe it away (Spirits, he hated to see her cry!), but found that he didn't have the strength.

"Toph, I just want you to know – no matter what happens, I'll be there, okay?"

"Sokka –"

"Go. You still have a chance. You can still fight – can still make a difference to the outcome of this thing. I can't."

"No. No, I won't – Sokka, don't say those things. Don't leave me like this."

He didn't respond.

"Sokka – don't – don't leave me like this. Please. Don't leave me… alone." She choked on her words, and another tear fell. She held him, hugged him to her, with every thread of strength she had inside of her. "Sokka – Sokka, you promised!"

Another tear fell, and another. They began to flow freely down her face as she felt his breathing, his slow, broken breathing, cease. His laboriously beating heart slowed, stopped, and she felt it all. She felt every moment, every movement, every ending. She felt his _death, _and her hold on him loosened.

She released him, and stood, unable to keep her focus from his body. She couldn't fight anymore – not with his body lying here. It would always be in her vision, would always consume her until she was weak and helpless, until she became too easy a target. She couldn't fight like that. So what else could she do?

Her legs shook beneath her weight. She was covered in his blood, but that didn't matter. She could run away, but where? They were in the _Fire Nation. _Where could she possibly go?

It didn't matter. She took a few steps away from his body, then a few more; the tears had dried on her face and no longer reflected the firelight. She walked more, her steps becoming more shaky and inconsistent; then, after taking another step, she drew her foot back.

Disorientation and her lack of focus had caused her not to notice the small object in her path. She bent to pick it up, her vision blurred and fuzzy from her own mind-numbing state, and found that it was a certain boomerang that she had become accustomed to in all her time with _him._

What was she doing? Running away, like a _coward_. She was no coward. She wasn't weak, and she wasn't going to act like it. Besides – she couldn't leave his body there, alone. What if something happened to it? What if – what if he wasn't found, or if he was, but in an unrecognizable state? He had to be given his credit. His body couldn't just be labeled like that of an unknown soldier's. If his clothes were burned, his weapons stolen, every identifying characteristic stolen from him, she couldn't leave him behind.

His body needed the honor it was due. She wouldn't let him be an unknown soldier, no matter what he had done to her – despite the fact that he had left her alone, heartbroken, and hurt, she couldn't do him any wrong. She would live, and she would make sure he would be taken care of properly.

She owed it to him. Because even if he had broken a promise, she didn't have to. She would wait. It didn't matter what happened to her now – but he deserved honor, and she would make sure he got it at all costs. He _wouldn't _be a random, unknown soldier. He was Sokka of the Water Tribe, and he would be treated as such.

llllllll

_Show me what it's like_

_To dream in black and white_

_So I can leave this world tonight_

_Holding on too tight_

_Breathe the breath of life_

_So I can leave this world behind_

llllllll

**Author's Note:** I swear, after this I'm done with scenes from the "final battle." But I just had to write it. The song is that amazing.

Comments/Criticisms, please! Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays, guys!


End file.
